


Final Trial

by Otherworlder



Series: Order of the Dark Knight [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Captain Marvel (DC), DCU, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Billy Batson is Bat's son, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otherworlder/pseuds/Otherworlder
Summary: On his tenth birthday Billy Batson became Captain Marvel. On his eleventh birthday he is about to receive the final trial to prove his worth, before the world is thrust onto his shoulders. A story within the Superman: Doomed arc. Post-Sons, Billy Batson is the son of Bruce Wayne.





	1. Birthday

Villains always have a way of picking the most inconvenient date for the ultimate showdown. 

Batgirl did not remember at first, she was too busy hacking databases, making calls, meeting allies, planning attack routes and escape routes. She was, after all, organizing an all-out war over the fate of Gotham’s less valiant against Knightfall; the enemies would number in the hundred, but so would her allies. She dialed Batman on the family communication channel dead last, mostly because she did not think Batman needed any convincing to help in a job like this. 

The communicator rang for only a few seconds before Batman answered.

“What do you need?”

“Your help. I need you to…” Batgirl spoke those words, then somehow in a sudden flash of thought, she remembered. 

Today was January 24th; Billy just turned eleven. It would be the first birthday Billy celebrated in Gotham, and the boy gave her a proper invitation card a few days ago. She even bought and wrapped the present, but of course she forgot all about it, because of course Knightfall had to choose this day to send in mercenaries against teenage potheads and petty thieves. Lord, did she interrupt the party too?

“I need to borrow your boat,” At the last moment Batgirl changed the nature of her request, “The good one with radar camouflage. And I might have trouble returning it.”

“Yes, you can have the boat,” Batman said.

And then Robin’s voice rang over the line, and Batgirl could swear she heard a smirk in that voice. “Only a boat? Come on, woman, you know we can do better than that. Say, where do you need air support?”

Batgirl fell silent for a few seconds, before saying weakly, “I am sorry about this.”

Robin made that habitual “tt” sound, while Batman spoke in a perfectly level voice that was not unkind, “You didn’t answer a single call all day long; we know something is up. You should have come to me a long time ago, but now is still better than never. I assume you have this worked out, so where do you need us?”

Batgirl took a silent deep breath to still her thoughts and then answered, “Canary and I and another partner will go after Knightfall herself, once I get the boat from you, that is. The streets will be a total mess tonight, so anywhere you can be would help. Is Captain Marvel with you two? If he is around, I need him to be on the lookout for signs of dark magic. When I was hacking through Knightfall’s files, I found an email exchange about magical artifacts and a curse in Gotham. I didn’t have time to read those emails thoroughly, and I really wouldn’t know what’s going by just reading emails either. Zatanna promised she would come help as well. Perhaps Captain and Zatanna can each survey half the city and just make sure nothing sinister is going on?” 

She paused to breathe again, before adding in a very small voice, “And I am sorry, Captain, especially considering what day it is. I will bring you what I promised tomorrow.”

She heard a quick laugh from the other end of the line, a serious but confident sort of laugh. “The last thing you should be is sorry, and the chance to fight the good fight by your side is the perfect gift.” Indeed, what a gift—the only birthday present she could give to her ten-year old little brother was war. 

Eleven, Batgirl reminded herself, the kid is eleven now. 

“Thank you, Captain, for liking this awful present,” Batgirl straightened with a smile, “I will see you all when the battle is won.”

When the eastern sky was turning white, the chaos was finally dying down. Knightfall has surrendered and she was taken away by the police, the mercenaries in the streets were all dealt with, and even the heroes dispersed after cleaning up. Batgirl found Captain Marvel standing on the roof of an old building, strangely somber and silent. Zatanna stood there with him, wearing a worried frown on her face.

“Captain, Zee,” Batgirl greeted as she swung down, “Is there a problem? What happened?” 

Zatanna answered with a grim wince, “Captain Marvel was hit by a powerful curse.”

“Curse? How was he hit?” –The idea that someone with the speed of light should be hit by anything sounded ludicrous, but perhaps magic works differently.

Zatanna’s frown deepened and she said in a low voice, “It is my fault; I shouldn’t have approached it without making sure I can handle it. Captain was trying to shield me.”

Captain Marvel gave the dark-haired woman a stern look and shook his head firmly. He extended a hand, and they saw he was holding an arrow in his hand.

No one can handle this, Captain Marvel traced glowing letters in the air, better me than you.

“What do you mean? What is this curse? And what is that arrow anyway?” Batgirl asked. 

Shot Achilles in the heel. And then with bigger and brighter letters in the air, as if putting on more emphasis. This arrow. Make the strongest curse.

“Achilles’s heel,” Batgirl murmured, “Does that mean… Is that why you…?”

Zatanna nodded. “Yes, he lost his voice.”

Just then another deep and gravelly voice sounded, “And how do we break the curse?”

With that Batman dropped onto the roof, trailed by Robin. Both of them were glaring at Captain Marvel, who almost seemed to wilt under the burning looks from Gotham’s Dynamic Duo. Batman turned to Zatanna, “Any idea, Zee?”

Zatanna shook her head mournfully and said, “Curses can’t be broken, especially not a powerful one like this. We have tried the usual tricks to evict a curse from the body; nothing worked. I… I really don’t know.”

“It is irreversible in every way? It cannot be. Nothing is irreversible,” Batman said.

“Curses can only be undone through unwinding the original conditions,” Zatanna explained, “If one day Captain’s present greatest weakness is no longer a great weakness, then curse will simply wither away, but for now Captain and I can think of nothing. Captain… Let’s go see Madame Xanadu and Deadman; they might know something we don’t. Why don’t…”

“No,” Batman cut in before Captain Marvel could even make a gesture, “Come with me, Captain, we will sort it out.”

He turned and raised his grapple gun, then as if finally remembering some common courtesy, he turned his head slightly and said, “Thanks, Zee, another time. Let’s go.”

Batman disappeared into the night, trailed closely by Robin and Batgirl. Captain Marvel gave Zatanna an apologetic look and a half-shrug, before flying off in Batman’s general direction. The magician cocked her head. 

“Since when did Marvel become a bat?” She muttered to herself. 

For the whole night Captain Marvel shrank into a corner of the Batcave, sneaking furtive glances at Batman and Robin and looking like he would rather disappear. Batman and Robin each occupied a set of computer screens, digging through old legends, occult texts, Internet rumors, looking for anything and everything that might help. If Captain Marvel could still speak, he would have told them that it was rather futile. He knew the nature of his affliction well. This was an age old, well-known curse that augments one’s weakness, turning a small chink in the armor to a gaping, lethal wound. For most ordinary people the one way to undo the curse would be to conquer one’s own weakness, be it overcoming a fear, learning a new skill, or letting go of an old obsession. But Captain Marvel could not. His voice was a condition to his power, and it simply could not be overcome. Perhaps the only solution would be to stay as Captain Marvel forever, and eventually the need of the word would die away, just like his alternative identity of Billy Batson. Perhaps when that happens he would regain his voice…

Just a few months ago Captain Marvel would not have minded terribly. Being locked away permanently in this divine body would be no good, but not utterly unacceptable. Right now? No, he would do no such thing. He want to be Billy Batson, to be Bruce Wayne’s son and Damian Wayne’s brother, more than anything in the world. He could change back to Billy too; Batman certainly has prepared at least one way to drain Captain Marvel’s power and change him back to a vulnerable child without the magic word. But it didn’t seem right either, to betray his responsibility as Captain Marvel.

Just then Robin turned and gave him an immensely frustrated look.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the Champion of Magic?” Robin growled, “Come on, you have got to know something! Give us some help, something to get us started…”

“Don’t bother asking him,” Batman snapped.

Robin never got a chance to make sense of that strange comment. Captain Marvel stood up and straightened. He traced glowing letters in the air, row upon row of calm desperation. 

Curse can’t be broken. Only way is to conquer weakness. I can’t. My voice is the power. 

Robin gave Captain Marvel another withering glare, while Batman said, “That is why I said don’t bother asking. Magic users have a one-track mind. They are so entrapped by the magic they know, they can’t fathom there being any other solution.” 

After these words Batman suddenly turned away from his workstation and swept deep into the Batcave. Was Batman upset? Captain Marvel wondered to himself. A few moments later Batman returned, holding a box with the lightning bolt symbol on it.

“You should change back and get some sleep,” Batman said, opening the box and taking out a small gadget, “We will fix this, eventually, I promise.”

Captain Marvel seemed hesitant, so Batman asked, “Do you not trust me?”

That was all it took. Captain Marvel nodded and walked forward. Yet at that moment another screen flashed in the Batcave, and then Cyborg’s face appeared. “Batman, I need you in the League emergency bunker right now. Doomsday has been popping up all over the world and it looks much worse than before.”

Batman paused for a fraction of a second. He turned back and looked towards Captain Marvel, who stood very straight and gave him a determined expression that cut short all arguments. So Batman answered Cyborg, “Of course, we will be right there.” 

Batman said “we”, but he actually entered the Justice League bunker alone. Before they reached the bunker every Justice League member had received the emergency communication from Steel asking for help against Doomsday, and those select few on Earth capable of throwing a punch against that death machine, Captain Marvel among them, converged on Steel’s location at top speed. So Batman marched into the League bunker alone, dark cape flying like a sweep of storm clouds. 

“You got a visual, Cyborg?” Batman growled.

“Barely. Only a couple military satellites cover that area, and currently all I can see is a mess of dust and fume.”

Batman’s lips pursed into a very thin line.

“It will turn out fine,” Cyborg murmured consolingly, “Superman is there by now. We have all of this planet’s powerhouses at the scene; they will beat Doomsday back.”

“Of course,” Batman said curtly, “What alternative is there to consider?”


	2. Doomsday

When Earth’s most powerful returned from the confrontation against Doomsday, they all looked grim and roughened up. Wonder Woman was still recovering from Doomsday’s poison, and Captain Marvel’s suit and cape were bloody and in shreds. Superman did not seem injured, but his expression was dark. 

“Is everyone alright? Any medical needs?” Cyborg asked.

“I am fine; I will recover soon enough,” Wonder Woman said, turning towards Captain Marvel, “You, Captain? Are you quite alright? You haven’t spoken a single word tonight.”

Captain Marvel nodded, but still he did not speak. 

“Captain?” Now both Cyborg and Superman turned towards him, concerned about his silence. 

“He lost his voice, a curse from earlier tonight,” Batman explained curtly, before turning a scrutinizing eye towards the red-clad hero, “How badly are you hurt otherwise?”

Captain Marvel shook his head once more, only to have Batman snap at him, “Use actual words; don’t make me guess what’s wrong with you.”

So Captain Marvel quickly traced a reply in the air: just scratches and poison, almost healed now, won’t be a problem. 

Batman gave him another hard look, but promptly moved on to business. “So what happened? Where is Doomsday now?”

“It left, through the Phantom Zone, perhaps, or some other kind of dimensional portal,” Superman said with furrowed brow, “But I don’t think he is actually leaving. He has come and go so many times in recent months; he wants this planet and will stop of nothing to take it all.”

“So what is he doing, appearing and disappearing like this?” 

“He is growing,” Wonder Woman suddenly spoke, voice solemn and eyes aglow, “He looks much bigger than the last time we fought him, and stronger; his poison has become a death fume. He is feeding on Earth’s creature. And with everything that dies around him, he becomes stronger.”

“So now he is just biding his time until he is strong enough to overpower this planet’s defenders,” Batman finished grimly. 

There was a long silence within the bunker. After what seemed like an eternity, Batman asked, “Do we have at least some way of tracking Doomsday? Determine where he will appear next.”

Superman shook his head slowly, but still he said, “I can fly around the world and watch for him.”

“But that hardly gives the rest of us any way of helping you,” Batman said.

“What else can we…”

Just then Captain Marvel took a small step forward. He looked as if he had something to say and he was about to write some more in the air when suddenly his eyes widened. Something shocking has obviously caught his attention. He grabbed Superman’s arm, and before anyone could realize was happening they both disappeared in a flash of brilliant light. 

They heard Batman curse under his breath and mutter, “He need to stop doing that.”

“What is going on?” 

“By the looks of it, they teleported, and I am guessing to where Doomsday is. Cyborg, you are only hope of seeing anything now,” Batman barked. 

The moment Superman and Captain Marvel disappeared Cyborg began scanning through the tens of millions of imaging devices across the globe and above it, trying to get a glimpse of the action. So now he nodded and said,   
“Still Africa, just south of the Sahara this time. Still lacking decent image, but it at least looks like they are in the middle of the wilderness, no human settlement near.”

Wonder Woman was already on her way out as soon as she saw the position flash from one of the many monitors that lined the bunker, and Batman only said to her retreating back, “Careful, and get out of the way if the poison becomes too much.”

“And us?” Cyborg asked, “What do we do?”

Batman pursed his lips again. “We wait, since that is the only thing we can do,” Gotham’s Dark Knight said.

When Superman, Wonder Woman, and Captain Marvel returned to the Justice League bunker some forty-five minutes later, they looked just as wretched as before, and many times more frustrated. Lightning crackled around Captain Marvel like a raging storm in mid-summer.

“Doomsday disappeared again!” Superman all but roared. A pause, and then he added in a softer voice, “He has grown larger than before, and more deadly. Even with us on his tail the animals were dying all around us. We can’t keep this up.”

Wonder Woman turned towards the still-silent Captain Marvel and asked, “How were you tracking Doomsday before, Captain? Is there some way to prevent Doomsday from disappearing?”

Captain Marvel traced in the air: tracking spell, always put me where Doomsday is, doesn’t work when he is not on Earth. Can’t speak, so spell not very strong, sorry.

“Don’t be sorry, Captain,” Wonder Woman said with respectful small bow, “Without you we would be even less prepared to face Doomsday. How many can you teleport with you every time? If we can gather a larger team next time Doomsday appears, perhaps we can prevent him from escaping.”

Captain Marvel looked a little hesitant, but he held up two fingers tentatively. Batman gave him a very sharp look but did not say anything.

Superman spoke up instead, “No, we should not endanger any other; few can withstand Doomsday’s poison, even you and the Captain are barely holding up. I think it is better for me to take the fight off-world next time I see Doomsday.”

Captain Marvel stood up, but before he could make an attempt to communicate, Wonder Woman stepped in front of him. “No one said it will be easy,” The daughter of Zeus said in a calm voice, “But you cannot take on everything alone. Do not refuse help from those who can give it. And don’t worry, we all know our own limits.”  
Behind her Captain Marvel nodded with a serious expression. Batman’s hand involuntarily balled into a fist, but again he did not speak. 

They waited for a tense a day and half before Doomsday appeared again. Before anyone realized what was going Captain Marvel disappeared in a brilliant flash, dragging Superman and Wonder Woman along with him. After what seemed like forever Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman reappeared in the Justice League bunker. They both crashed down to the ground, bathed in blood and panting. Superman was nowhere to be seen.

“Diana, Captain!” Cyborg called.

Wonder Woman moved into a sitting position, putting her back against the wall. “I am fine,” Wonder Woman said, “I just need some time. Captain Marvel, you?”

Captain Marvel stood up shakily and nodded.

“Superman and Doomsday, they are off-world now? You guys were moving too fast for any camera to amount to anything,” Batman asked.

“Yes, they flew off…”

“No, they are coming back to Earth!” Cyborg shouted.

They all stepped up to the monitors, just in time to see a streak of flame breaking into Earth’s atmosphere, burning bright as a star, and crashing down with an enormous explosion. 

“We need to go help him…”

“No, Diana,” Batman cut Wonder Woman off, “Not in your state. You will do no good against Doomsday, only distract Superman.” His words were cutting, but Wonder Woman had to concede the point.

But it seemed to be over before it even begun. They saw Superman charge towards Doomsday with a thundering roar and tore Doomsday to pieces, and a swarm of faintly glowing purple spores covered the screen. Then the swarm of spores swirled in a sudden rush of wind, as if sucked in by something. When the spores cleared they saw Superman slowly rise from the ground. Was it over? None dared to even hazard a guess. After what seemed like forever Captain Marvel raised his hand. 

Let’s go help him. 

A line of glowing letters floated in the air. 

“No, it is over, and we are no help to Superman. He will get back to Fortress of Solitude on his own,” Batman said and turned back, looking at his teammates who have labored without rest for the past two days, “Diana, Captain, you two need to go home and rest. You are no help to anyone in your current state.”

Captain Marvel hesitated. Once more he began to write in the air: Spores look weird, Superman might be in danger, must…

Batman raised a hand and made the glowing letters dissipate with a single swipe. 

“Go home, wait for me there.”

Captain Marvel looked as if he wanted to argue, so Batman narrowed his eyes. “It’s been fifty-three hours. You are not at your full power to begin with,” He said in a dangerously low voice, “Doomsday is dead, you have absolutely no reason to take this kind of risk anymore. Go home. Don’t make me force you.”

Captain Marvel actually took a step back, then he nodded and disappeared in yet another flash. 

It took Batman another three hours to get back to the Batcave. Though he desperately wanted to return to his child, but he had to satisfy himself that Doomsday really was gone, at least for the foreseeable future. But in those three long hours apparently Captain Marvel still hasn’t made up his mind. By the time Batman returned, he saw Captain Marvel sitting in a dark corner, arms around his knees, wearing an expression of doubt.

“You should know very well you can’t stay in this form,” Batman said, “The crisis has passed, you don’t need to stay in this form any longer. Like I said before, I will use force if you are being obstinate.”

Captain Marvel stood up, and he wrote in the air very slowly: maybe I never have voice, never this again.

“No, you will get your voice back,” Batman said, pulling back his cowl, “No matter how long it takes, one way or another. I promise you, kid.”

Captain Marvel put his arms around the Dark Knight in a brief hug, and then nodded. But even then he was wearing a somber look on his face. Batman pulled out the device he didn’t have a chance to use two days ago, and with the explosion of light, the Champion of Magic was gone. Eleven-year old Billy stepped out of the web of electricity and stumbled. Batman grabbed him before he could hit the ground and held the child tightly.

“How are you feeling?” He asked in an unusually gentle voice, “Can you talk?”

Billy opened his mouth, paused, and then shook his head. 

“Don’t dwell on it. Let’s get you something to eat, then to sleep. And you better use the time well to catch up on sleep, because you are going back to school on Monday.”

Billy looked like he was laughing, but no sound escaped his mouth. He paused again, and his face fell, the laugh evaporating like morning dew. Almost instinctively, the boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck.

“I promise, Billy, you will conquer this,” Bruce repeated to his son.


	3. Chapter 3

Before Monday came around Billy insisted on going to Fawcett City first. He might no longer be the green hand training under a goddess in mortal form, but when trouble hits, his first instinct was still to go to his math teacher. So Alfred drove the limo to Fawcett City on a rainy Sunday morning, with Damian and Bruce sitting on either side of Billy in the back. They were deathly quiet on the way to Fawcett City. Billy couldn’t speak, and the others did not want to remind him of his curse by chattering. 

A few hours of silent driving later, they stopped at a perfectly ordinary suburban house in Fawcett. Billy opened the front gate and walked right up to the door. Before he could press the doorbell the door swung open. Areia Glaukos looked down at the boy, all calm and no surprise. She took Billy’s hand and said kindly, “Come on in, Billy.”

Bruce and Damian followed Billy into the house. Damian was truculently silent and wore a hostile frown. Bruce was tempted to do the same, but for image’s sake he greeted the hostess with a proffered hand and his best attempt at a smile given the awkward situation. 

“Enchanted to meet you, Ms. Glaukos,” Gotham’s billionaire prince said, “Billy has talked quite a bit about his math teacher. Sorry for visiting on such short notice, but Billy insisted. He thinks you can help with him out with his current problem.”—Bruce was aiming for a generic greeting. He wanted to at least try to appear as a regular doting father, however futile this attempt. 

Areia took his hand and shook it, replying in kind, “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Wayne.”

Everyone sat down in the living room, as if it was no more than a gathering of friends, Alfred even offered to make everyone tea and then busied himself in the kitchen. But that was all of the pretension they had the mood for. Areia all but ignored the other occupants in the room and looked at Billy only. 

She began, “You should know better than I do, but there is only one way to unwind the curse. You must find another key to unlock Captain Marvel’s power. The good news is, it can be done; the bad news, it will be difficult, perhaps even impossible for you, Billy.”

The boy blinked a few times with puzzlement. He moved his lips, as if wanting to say something, so Areia passed him a pen and a small notepad. Billy took it and quickly scribbled down: I thought the word is the only way.

Areia shook her head, “Not exactly, the key to unleashing Captain Marvel is the lightning. That is why just about anyone can change you back using a strong electric current with some magic-draining power. Granted, unleashing the power is vastly more difficult than turning it off; you will need the true lightning bolt of Zeus, not just any electric current, but it can be done. I can grant you the right to use Father Zeus’s lightning as you are now, William Joseph Batson.”

Billy looked back at his mentor with wide, hopeful eyes, but Areia stopped.

“So?” Damian cut in as silence dragged on, “Do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”

“The ‘but’ is, it is a mighty task for a mortal body to invoke Zeus’s lightning, permission notwithstanding. In this form even I had to learn the spells of electromagnetism first because I can unleash the lightning, though the lightning bolt has long been my weapon.”

Areia held up her hands, and suddenly blue-white sparks flared between her palms, igniting the air. 

“This is a spark of Zeus’s power, but it is also a current generated from the two hundred thousand volt potential difference between my hands. The permission to use Zeus’s lightning does not give your mortal body the power to create electricity; that is a skill to be learned.”

Billy scratched on his notepad furiously: how can any normal person learn that?

“There are enough magic users who can manipulate electromagnetism, even if they cannot tap the power of Zeus. The question is whether you will be able to acquire that skill. Magic requires something innate.”

Billy pursed his lips as he wrote down with extra force: I will learn. Swear. Whatever it takes. 

Areia put a hand on the boy’s head and said in a gentle voice, “Hopefully it would take only a few months of practice. By no means do you need to become a powerful wizard, you only need to master the couple spells to gather charged particles and manipulate electric fields. So long as you can create two or three megavolts at will, that should be enough of a spark to invoke Zeus’s power. Here, take this grimoire; I made it many years ago when I was trying to learn some magic. The first two are wordless spells to create electric and magnetic fields, exactly what you need to master right now.”

Billy took the thick notebook into his hands with reverence, flipping to the first page. On the thin, time-yellowed page there were pictures of hand gestures and a diagram of arrows, accounting every step in this spell. 

“The gestures are simple enough,” Areia said, her long fingers twisting and turning, tracing the diagram in the air, “The key is in something insubstantial and unexplainable.” She snapped her fingers, and then every unsecured object containing iron in the room moved towards her, only to stop dead before they actually hit.

Billy looked at her and then looked at the spell book again. He raised a hand and began tracing the diagram in the air with trepidation. As expected, nothing happened. Billy glanced at his math teacher, who looked back at him with a small and almost sad smile, “Take heart, Billy, no one really gets it on the first try. Come back to me when you have mastered that spell.”

Billy noticed his teacher said “when”, not “if”. He nodded very slowly and hugged the grimoire to his chest. 

In the days that followed Billy was getting absolutely nowhere with learning magic. Sometimes he could not help but wonder, perhaps he really has no aptitude for this kind of thing. No matter how hard he tried, how often he practiced, and how much he concentrated, he never did create even a single electric spark. Billy became even more frustrated and morose when Jason somehow short circuited the entire house upon trying the spell (out of sheer boredom, no less). Jason had to give an embarrassed speech all about coming back from the dead and training with a warrior clan steeped in mysticism, how Billy should never feel inadequate because what other people can do and how he just need to keep at it. Of course, Jason was simply terrible at this kind of speeches, and it went wrong in every way imaginable except for the intentions. 

But none of this could compare to the gravity when the news broke to the whole world: Superman had gone rogue. Apparently Superman was infected by the Doomsday virus after his battle, and   
Earth’s greatest hero was slowly turning into a world-killing monster.   
Billy was terror struck at the news. He sat there, staring at the news anchorman on TV with unbelieving eyes, face ashen. Damian listened for a few lines, got the gist of the story, then he promptly clicked the TV off. 

“We have school tomorrow,” Damian said briskly, “Don’t watch too much TV.”  
Billy turned around and gave his brother a look, half affronted half incredulous, as if wondering how Damian could talk about going to school at such a time. He pulled out his notepad and pen from his pocket and quickly scribbled: That’s why father never home last week and now; how could he not tell us anything?

“Because telling us does not help, not at all.”

Billy forgot to write this time, for his hands were shaking so very hard. His lips moved; no sound came out, but Damian could tell it was something along the line of “but I could have, maybe, done something”. Damian could not help but releasing a long-suffering sigh. 

“Look, you couldn’t possibly have known things would go this way; no one could have known. And even if you did know, what then?” Damian said, poking Billy in the ribs, “Stay as Captain Marvel indefinitely, kill off this body, kill off my brother—is that what you really want?” 

Billy lowered his head. Of course the only possible answer was “no”, so he had nothing else to say. But a moment of silence later he started scribbling on his notepad again: Will you help me?

“With what?”

Practicing magic, Billy wrote.

Damian breathed a sigh and rubbed his forehead. The youngster looked at his brother and said with a rare patience, “You know I am no good at this mystic mumbo-jumbo. Do you want me to call up Todd? He probably is more help to you.” Seeing Billy’s surprised look Damian shrugged, “No, I still think Todd is a useless delinquent, but for you I will call him up and tell him to get over here.”

A small smile surfaced on Billy’s face, but then he shook his head and wrote down, it’s okay, Jason probably busy, can use your help, you will help.

“Alright,” Damian sat down right beside his brother, “What do you need me to do?”

They spent the entire night drawing and redrawing spell diagrams, practicing gestures, flipping through the grimoire forward and backward. Alfred brought them tea and snacks at one point and kindly reminded them it was still a school night. But Billy simply turned on the TV again—there was a discussion about Superman-as-Doomsday on almost every channel, and Alfred had to agree if there is anything they might do to help they should certainly try. Damian couldn’t quite remember if they actually accomplished anything, probably none whatsoever, only woke up finding himself still in the living room, somehow fallen asleep on the sofa. Billy was actually on the floor, curled up by the fireplace on the lamb skin, the grimoire hugged against his chest. The morning light streamed in from the wide windows, heralding a new day. 

Damian rose and stretched, then shouted with a yawn, “Get up Billy, still a school day!”


	4. Day of Reckoning

It started out with just another cold, bored school day. They were in math class and the teacher was droning on about the importance of order of operations. Billy was obviously not paying attention; he was playing with a long nail in his hand, his eyes glued to it as if it were some exquisite gem. Perhaps the nail was almost a jewel in his eyes, for it was a product of his own magic—after weeks of practice, he could finally produce enough of a current to magnetize a nail. It was miles away from the “two or three megavolt at will” Ms. Glaukos talked about, but at least it was something. Now Billy was practicing his gestures again secretively, hoping to reproduce his success and flip the polarity of his magnetized nail. At least the kid was self-conscious enough to stand his textbook on the desk to shield his face and hands. Considering this was math, a subject Billy happened to excel in, Damian pretended to not even notice Billy’s blatant inattention.

The teacher was not so kind. 

“Now that you all had a couple minutes to work on this question by yourself, who can give me an answer?” Mr. Morrison asked up front,   
“Billy?”

With a loud bang, Billy’s math textbook collapsed on his desk. The boy jumped up, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlight. Everyone in the classroom burst out laughing, while Billy flushed deep crimson. He quickly scanned the long arithmetic question on the board, and he opened his mouth, ready to answer. Of course no sound came out. So Billy stood there frozen, mouth agape and expression even more terrified. 

“Well, Billy?” Mr. Morrison said, “Do you think you will start paying attention now?”

The children in the room laughed even louder, while Billy looked like he want to disappear into a hole in the ground. Damian brought his fists down on the table. He was positively furious at his teacher. Billy couldn’t speak! Even if the man genuinely forgot the fact in a momentary lapse, it was unforgivable! 

Damian was about to let loose some choice words, when a thunderous crash rocked their world. The entire room shook violently, and everything unsecured threatened to fall and crash. Something appeared outside, an enormous metal contraption at least twenty feet tall hovered midair, and they could just barely see the whole thing through the window. It looked like a jellyfish, with dozens of metal tentacles, and half a dozen glowing red lights adorned its exterior. 

At that everyone froze.

Then it seemed like the machine fired a shot again. Boom! And their world shook once more. A few windows shattered, creating a shower of glass blades. Screams rose up like wild fire, and even the teacher was petrified. 

Damian and Billy sprang into action at the exact same moment. They leaped towards the seats by the window where a few of their classmates sat in the most direct line of fire, too frightened to move. 

“Get away from the window, fools!” Damian roared as he grabbed two girls closest to him, shoving them back physically.   
Billy too dragged another boy from his seat. He couldn’t speak, but his frantic expression said everything. This finally seemed to wake the others, as everyone scrambled as far away from the windows as possible, while all the rest of the glass shattered. The hovering metal jellyfish seemed to move even closer. One more thunderous boom, and then another. It seemed as if the outside facing wall would come down any second.

“We can’t stay here, Morrison,” Damian turned towards the teacher, “This entire room can come down on us. And who knows what these machines outside really want. Isn’t there a basement storage space just down the hall? It would be a safer hideout.”

The teacher breathed, before saying hesitantly, “No, but the standard, standard earthquake drill… We should get under the tables, and we are probably in lockdown…”

“What is wrong with you?” Damian glared, gesturing the general direction of outside, “Does this look like a standard earthquake to you?”  
Just then another string of deafening crashes, before all the windows disappeared—there was now a gaping hole through which they had an unobstructed view of the space jellyfish.

“Okay, let’s get out of here! Everyone, quickly, go down the hall towards the janitor’s room. One by one, everyone, don’t crowd the doors. Be careful!” 

The children filed out of the classroom with amazing discipline and speed, but apparently that was still not enough. Even as the last few students were heading out of the door, there was another thunderous boom, and the entire room came down. There was no more order, only general mad dash away from the door and into the hallway. But when the shaking finally seemed to stop for the moment and the dust cleared, every stopped instinctively, looking back at the ruin. Was anyone buried underneath?

A small girl was on the ground and her feet were hidden under rubbles, but already she was frantically pushing everything away. A moment later she stood up shakily, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. But the little girl was staring back at the rubble with a terrified look. It was only then that everyone saw Billy. He was buried all the way up to his chest.

“Billy, Billy, Billy,” The little girl muttered the name as if bespelled.

In two bounds Damian was kneeling beside his brother, cradling Billy’s head in his arms. Billy’s eyes were closed, and his face was ashen; he seemed to have passed out.

“You fool,” Damian murmured, “You insufferable fool of a brother.”

The girl beside them said with a small sniff, “Billy pushed me…”

“So you can get the hell out of here. Why are you still here anyway?” Damian snapped without raising his head, “Get out of here. That means the rest of you too!”

But no one moved. After a moment of silence Mr. Morrison said in a very gentle voice, “Here, Damian, let us help you dig Billy out.”

Damian gave his teacher a withering look and said, “So your plan is to have a bunch of ten and eleven-year olds dig rubble with their hands while the building is still collapsing? What kind of teacher are you? For the love of god, get out of here now.”

No one else saw it, but one quick look and Damian knew there was no way to extricate his brother presently. There was a load-bearing wall on top of Billy, certainly not to be removed by one adult and a group of preteen school children. And the entire mess looked unstable, a hard tug in the wrong direction and the rubbles could collapse yet again.

“Damian, we can’t possibly leave you and Billy here…”

Poor Mr. Morrison never did finish his sentence, for suddenly Damian was in front of him, holding a knife to his chest. The cold light glinting off the six-inch long blade and its precise positioning just above the heart made it clear Damian meant business. 

“I am in a terrible mood, teacher, I do not want to waste time with you,” Damian snarled, “You will get out here with the rest of the kids, go to that underground storage space, now.”

With that Damian jumped back to his brother’s side. He plunged his knife into the ground, the note of threat in his gesture clear, and stared back silently, obviously waiting for the others to just leave. 

Mr. Morrison was still hesitant. “What about you, Damian? It’s not safe here.”

“I am not going to leave my brother, but he is not your brother.” 

There was more silence, and then Mr. Morrison turned around. He shouted at the children, “Everyone, let’s go, head towards the end of the hall and through the janitor’s room!” 

As the last person disappeared from view, Damian pulled out his emergency communicator. “You there?” The boy whispered into the communicator, “Where are you, and what the hell is going on!”

There was a long pause of silence and statics, before Batman’s weary and gruff voice rang with concern, “If you are seeing strange spacecraft they are Brainiac’s fleet. Do not, I repeat, do not engage. The League is on it. Stay inside. Actually, get somewhere underground.”

Damian couldn’t help it, he muttered under his breath, “That’s easier said than done.”

Batman’s voice came back with alarm, “Are you alright?”

“No, in a bad situation,” Damian replied without elaboration, “Can you send someone?”

There was a prolonged pause, too long for a crisis moment such as this. Then Damian heard a strangled “no” from the other end of the line, and, “Every team is deployed; we are fighting a global scale invasion. What is your situation, kid?”

“I will figure it out. Happy hunting. Out.”

Damian promptly turned off the communicator and pulled out the battery. Then he took a deep breath. What should he do? Just sit here, protect his brother best he can, and wait? No rescue would be forth coming. In fact, it sounded like apocalypse was approaching and even Earth’s greatest heroes did not know whether it could be stopped. What could he possibly do? 

It took just a few moments of calculation, while the ceiling and walls were still crumbling all around him, to determine the course of action. Damian put his arms around Billy’s shoulders and hugged his brother tightly, then he called out in a controlled voice, “Shazam!”

Nothing happened. Damian didn’t expect to get it on the first try anyway, so he took a deep breath again. He distilled his thoughts, forgetting every other worry and focusing only on his brother’s voice, its usual tones and inflections. He had never taken the time and effort to perfect mimicking Billy’s voice, but that was his brother. They already sounded similar, and those past months spent never leaving each other’s side should give him enough help. He opened mouth and made the second attempt. Still nothing, but already Damian thought the second attempt sounded closer. 

“Shazam!” He called for the third time. 

Still not right, but it sounded almost there. One more attempt, one more time and surely he would be able to do it.

“Sha…”

He never did finish the word, for Billy suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth. Damian didn’t even notice when Billy woke up, but now his brother stared up at him with a pair of wide, tear-filled, and terrified blue eyes. Billy was shaking his head and his expression was nothing short of a desperate plea. 

Damian pinned Billy’s hands down gently and said, “We have a global invasion by Brainiac’s fleet out there. You need help, no rescue team is coming, and the world needs Captain Marvel. It’s just lightning strike, not one hundred percent fatal in any case, definitely worth it. Trust me.”

Damian paused a moment here, staring into Billy’s teary eyes, and he wondered very briefly if this was the last glimpse of his brother. Then he opened his mouth.


	5. Day of Apotheosis

Before Damian could say the word, everything around him suddenly jumped. Debris danced, boards trembled, and heaps of twisted desks and chairs began slowly lifting into the air. Something whizzed by his ear and he ducked, only to realize a moment later he was nearly hit by a desktop pencil sharpener. Sparks flew, and the air seemed to be faintly buzzing with charges. The moment of shock over, Damian realized what he was seeing: a strong magnetic field has suddenly manifested around them, pushing everything ferromagnetic upward. 

“Stop it,” Damian said instinctively.

Billy did not stop. He stared back at Damian defiantly, teeth clenched with obvious effort. There was a cacophony of scraping and banging as everything shifted about madly. Even with his hands pinned down and unable to make a single gesture, Billy was still whipping up a magnetic storm.

“Stop it!” Damian applied more pressure on Billy’s hands, “Our school is an old brick building, there aren’t enough metal in the rubble for you to dig yourself out! And this fallen structure is not stable; keep this up and we will both be irrecoverably buried.”  
Things stilled, as if a non-existent gale calmed for a moment. Billy was still staring at his brother intensely, and his look seemed to say, I stop if you stop.

Damian sighed and said, “Fine, I won’t say the word just now. If you are done being melodramatic, I hope you realize what your newfound magic means. You can make yourself a tall lightning rod, away from you and all the way to the ceiling, and I can stand under it when I say the word. It’s not foolproof, but if you won’t even take this kind of risk I will have to knock you unconscious again.”

Billy blinked very slowly for a few moments, and a touch of color seemed to return to his cheeks. He nodded most resolutely. So Damian released Billy’s hands and took a few steps away, giving Billy some room to work his inexperienced magic. Billy closed his eyes and raised his hands, making slow but sure gestures. He had practiced those gestures thousands of times to no effect, but now one could literally feel the magnetic field radiating away from him, twisting and turning, positioning every metal object in the near vicinity exactly where he wanted it. Twisted chair stacked on top of twisted chair, metal legs connecting into a long rail, and they were unintentionally reinforced by pencil sharpeners, nickel coins, and even Damian’s knife. Soon this train of metal objects extended from Billy’s hand to thirty-something feet away, nearly touching the ceiling. Damian stood under the highest chair and looked up. It was now or never.

“Shazam!” He cried out in a perfect imitation of his brother’s voice.

As the lightning bolt of Zeus descended from on high Damian dropped to the ground and tried to roll away, keeping himself as small and as low as possible. He did not see the lightning hit the first chair and then zap along the rail of metal towards Billy, but he could hear air all around him crackle like firework. His hair all stood on end, and a tingling sensation ran down his back. All signs he was about to be hit by lightning.

And then it hit, like a machete to the back. He was still too close to the metal rail, and a portion of the current jumping onto him was almost unavoidable. For a fraction of a second his world turned black, and then excruciating pain washed over him like tide. His heart was beating in an uncontrollable frenzy, and he couldn’t move an inch, for every single one of his muscles seemed to be locked in spasm. At least better than a full-on cardiac arrest, he told himself drily. Before Damian could remind himself to breathe again he felt a strong arm scooping him up. Red suit and white cape—none other than Captain Marvel. 

“’M alive, just side flash,” Damian slurred with difficulty, “Set communicator, tell you-know-who we are not dead. Ask what’s going on.”  
Captain Marvel shook his head firmly and did not even spare the communicator a look. He was tracing a diagram in the air with his free hand, a glowing network of intricate curves and lattice. When the diagram was completed it was shining so brightly Damian could barely keep his eyes open. Captain Marvel put a hand on Damian’s forehead and the burning light wrapped itself around the youth. Damian felt as if a spring shower suddenly washed over him, and then all his hurts disappeared. He felt fresher than he had felt in a long time. 

“Alright, I can certainly learn to love magic,” Damian said with a silent sigh of relief. He jumped down from Captain Marvel’s arms and dove for his communicator, quickly reinserting the battery and turning it on. “Anybody there? Come in!”

There was a long silence, but eventually he heard Batman’s voice, exhausted but with just a hint of happy surprise. “Kid? You alright?”

“Better than alright now. I am with Captain Marvel. Where and what do you need?”

“I need you to get back to the Batcave. It is the only shielded place. Go now.”

“Wait, what?” Damian was rather indignant, “I told you I am with Captain Marvel. It’s apocalypse out there and we can help!”

“No. Brainiac’s real invasion force has arrived. It is about to absorb every sentient mind on this planet. So you and the Captain need to get back to the cave now. We need you both for the counterattack. Play the hero after you escape this round. Go, please.”

“Alright, alright, keep us updated.”

As Damian put down the communicator a sudden explosion of light flared up beside him, forcing him to turn and shut his eyes. When he opened his eyes again he saw a raven-haired, grey-eyed woman standing in front of Captain Marvel—Areia Glaukos, Captain Marvel’s elusive mentor of sort. Areia was breathing rapidly and she looked disheveled. There was actually an expression of worry on her perpetually calm face. But Captain Marvel was obviously overjoyed to see her, and his face lit up with an enormous grin.

“One of those days, some day in the future, you need to teach me proper teleportation spells. But I have to do this now, I am sorry, my child,” Areia murmured and put a hand on Captain Marvel’s chest. Her voice was sad and contained a puzzling note of finality. 

Lightning flared again, a thousand blue-white electric snakes striking and baring their fangs all at once. Captain Marvel disappeared,   
leaving behind a small boy curled on the ground, screaming without sound. 

Damian could hear blood pounding in his ears. 

A wall had fallen on top of Billy; he had been buried up to his chest. He probably sustained injuries no one want to even think about. Captain Marvel was Billy’s only way out, the only way to keep his own broken body in suspension until things calmed down. Yet here was Billy’s beloved mentor, the one person Billy trusted probably more than anyone else in the world, and she thrust him back into a broken, dying body with a single touch in the midst of an apocalyptic war. 

“How could you?!” 

Damian roared like a young lion and threw himself at the woman with knife in hand—only to be thrown back by an incredible force. It was even someone grabbed his knife-wielding hand and flung him back, nearly dislocating his shoulder. Billy’s plenty powerful magnetic fields were nothing compared to what this woman produced without so much as a twitch.

Areia ignored Damian completely. She knelt beside Billy, a hand cupping his face, forcing the boy to look at her. “Breathe, Billy, calm,”   
She said, “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes, look at me. You have to be awake for this.”  
Billy took a deep breath as told and stared back with unfocused eyes. He had no idea what was going on, only that his world was hazy with pain.

“Hear me, Zeus Olympios, King Father on High, Your Majesty Lord of the Thunder, hear your child’s oath,” Areia spoke slowly, her voice a powerful, sonorous ring that was distinctively inhuman, “I, Pallas Athena, Wisdom and War incarnate, defender of mankind’s kingdom, bearer of the Aegis and guardian of the lightning, do grant the power of your lightning to this mortal, William Joseph Batson Wayne. Hear his name and behold his valor. Let him use the lightning as I have, let him invoke your glory, for he is without peer in courage and faith, and dear to my heart. Kingdom of heaven above and rivers of underworld below, here be my witness.”

Wind howled and electric fire crackled, thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. It was the scene of mystical revelation, but Billy only stared at his teacher with uncomprehending eyes. Everything hurt too much, he could barely stay conscious, much less hold a clear thought.

Areia breathed out a long sigh. She knelt there for a few moments in utter silence, before speaking up in her usual voice, “I am going now, Billy, and I will hold off Brainiac’s mother ship for as long as I can, but it won’t be very long. I cannot triumph as I am now, so I hope you will be ready to defend yourself soon enough. Goodbye, Billy.”

Billy finally noticed the note of farewell in Areia’s voice. Though still in a haze, he reached for his teacher and tried to grab her hand. The boy still couldn’t speak, but his desperate, confused expression voiced all the questions he couldn’t.

Areia turned back and explained softly, “Brainiac’s mothership is currently hovering above Earth and he plans to absorb every living soul here. Every memory, every piece of knowledge, everything. He is already halfway there. I cannot fall prey to Brainiac, for I hold too many secrets, but I cannot resist him forever in this mortal body. So it’s time for me to sleep for a while, to let my soul languish in secrecy, hidden from all, even myself. But before that, I can make a dent in Brainiac’s ship and shield Gotham City for maybe twenty minutes. I hope that is long enough for you to be ready.”

Billy refused to release Areia’s hand. The boy shook his head frantically, even if the action made him even dizzier.

“Billy,” Areia pulled her hand away gently but firmly, “We don’t have time. Remember, Captain Marvel is one of the very few heroes who can resist Brariniac’s power. You are one of Earth’s last defenders.” 

She stood up and began walking towards the door leading outside.

“You know very well this is not an eternal parting. I have grown weary of this mortal body, so a brief sleep is indeed quite welcome. I will come find you again when I am ready, Champion.” 

As her last word fell, Areia Glaukos disappeared out the door. 

Billy lay there, now staring up at the ceiling with a dazed look. He was too tired and too sad to think, even if Braniac was absorbing and killing his entire world. Suddenly Damian’s face appeared in his field of vision and his brother squeezed his hand forcefully. 

“Come on, Billy, the world needs you,” Damian said, “I need you too. Make another lightning rod, and I will get you suited up.”  
Billy drew a deep breath, then he shook his head. Slowly, he began tracing letters in the dust on the floor. Once the word “Shazam” appeared on the floor, Billy gestured for Damian to move far away.

Damian raised an eyebrow, but he moved to a far corner without wasting a single moment. Billy snapped his fingers, and a flash of electric current fell on the magical word in the dust. The floor glowed brilliantly for a fraction of a second, then Zeus’s lightning bolt dropped from the ceiling. Captain Marvel rose from floor and looked around, his usually warm and bright eyes now full of sorrow. 

“Look, Captain, we still have time,” Damian said as he approached, “Let’s go get her now. We can take her back to the Cave. She will be safe there; the cave is shielded.”

But Captain Marvel shook his head once more, slowly and most resolutely. 

“She can put a dent in Brainiac’s ship,” Captain Marvel said in a quiet voice, “We don’t have much in this war; we really need every dent, even if she… But it’s not like she is really dying; I just won’t see her for a while. She will eventually come back in one form or another. Let’s just get you back to the Cave, then I can go after Braniac.”

Damian stared at the red-clad hero for a few seconds, then he asked, “You can speak now?”

Captain Marvel nodded, “Now that I don’t need my voice to become Captain Marvel, it is no longer a weakness, so the curse just withered away.”

But the curse is not the only thing that withered away. 

There were many things Damian wanted to tell his brother, but they really had no time. So Damian only said, “Alright, take me back to the Cave, and happy hunting, Captain.”


End file.
